A Not So Very Merry Christmas
by blue peanut m and m
Summary: John's insistance that they keep driving late on Christmas Eve, results in an unfortunate accident. Written for sammygirl1963, who requested a Christmas WeeChester, with a crashed Impala and hurt, limp Sam. One shot
1. Chapter 1

**A Not So Very Merry Christmas.**

**Summary. . . . . John's insistence that they carry on driving, late on Christmas Eve, results in an unfortunate accident. Sam's 10, Dean's 14. Written for sammygirl1963 who asked for a Christmas Wee-Chester, with a crashed Impala and hurt Sam, hope this is okay for you? Merry Christmas Everyone!**

**Disclaimer. . . . . On my wish list, but still Kripkie's for now. Mistakes are all mine though!**

**A.N. . . . As I said this was a Christmas present for sammygirl. Thank you for all your support throughout the year and for reviewing each and every chapter I have written. Have a good un!**

**And to everyone else out there in fanficland thank you so much for making me feel so very welcome on the site, you reviews and your hits have driven and encouraged me to keep on writing. You guys really do rock! **

It was very late Christmas Eve and John, driving through rural snow covered Colorado, found him self, not for the first time this past hour, regretting his decision not to listen to his two boys's when they had expressed their wish to stop in the last town they had passed through. John's mind though was consumed with thoughts of the demon that had taken his beloved wife away from him. For the first time in a long time they had a promising lead on where he would be tomorrow. What day tomorrow was hadn't even crossed John's mind, he had long since forgotten what December 25th meant, had long since forgotten just how much joy Christmas Day would bring to children around the world, his own two boy's included. To John it was just another day.

He had decide to ignore Sam's begging for him to stop, and Dean's request that Sam was tired and they should find a motel for the night, instead gruffly insisting that they keep going, that they would stop soon. For the first half an hour it hadn't been too bad, John had convinced Sam to curl up on the back seat and Dean had covered his brother with his own jacket to keep the chill off. John had missed the look of reproach that his eldest had thrown his way as he tucked the coat further around Sam's frame, Dean had asked their Dad for money to get Sam a winter jacket, but as usual John had forgotten and Sam was stuck with the light weight thread bare summer one.

The snow had started falling in earnest shortly afterwards, within minutes it was blizzard conditions the gusting wind making the thick flakes slam horizontally into the wind shield where the wipers worked over time fighting to clear them away. As quick as they were removed though, more soon covered the window once again. Dean had sat watching mesmerized for a while, the feeling of traveling at light speed like the characters in his favorite movie Star Wars coming into his mind. After a few minutes though he too had succumbed to the sleep he had been fighting. After turning slightly in his seat and resting his head on the back of the bench, his soft snores could also soon be heard.

As soon as John heard them he let out the breath he had been holding in and slightly increased his grip on the steering wheel, his fingers turning white as he crushed the soft leather. It was getting harder and harder to keep the big car on the road, the blinding snow making it hard to even see where the road even was. Worry was beginning to eat away at him now, worry and guilt and self loathing. How could he keep doing this to his children? How could he have put them below the damn hunt yet again? He felt a momentary sense of relief as he passed a two mile marker virtual buried beneath a snow drift, two more miles and his children would be safe, two more miles and they would be warm and tucked up in beds.

He had no way of knowing though that there was a sharp bend ahead with a steep drop off beside it, no way of knowing that this stretch of road was notorious for it's constant spate of fatal accidents every winter, no way of knowing that he was headed for a patch of black ice. The Impala's wheels hit it and locked. John tried desperately to regain control of the beast as it began to slide across the road, turning the wheel with the spin in the hopes of getting the car to straighten once more, but it was no use they were headed for the gully. John was still completely unawares of the danger they were about to face, only realizing when his stomach lurched as the Impala left the ground before it crashed back down landing hard and jolting both Dean and himself in their seats, their seatbelts luckily enough saving them from serious injury. Sam on the other hand wasn't so lucky. As the car careened down the steep hillside, bumping over rocks and bushes, Sam was thrown about the back seat. As the car hit the bottom it spun wildly once more before crashing back end into a tree.

John was the first one to regain some semblance of awareness, glancing cautiously at his oldest son; he tentatively began to turn his head, wincing slightly as pain registered in his neck. "Dean? Dean, are you okay?" When he received no answer, he reached out and gently shook him. "Dean? Dean, answer me. Are you okay?" This time he received a groan of protest as Dean's eyes slowly fluttered open.

"Dad, what happened?"

"We crashed son, are you injured?"

"What? No! Are you and Sam okay?"

"I'm fine just wrenched my neck . . . . " John trailed off from further replying as he suddenly remembered his other son. "Shit! Sammy! Sam, are you okay?" He glanced frantically in the rear view mirror trying to get a glimpse of his youngest son. At not seeing Sam he turned awkwardly and painfully in his seat, his locked and stuck seat belt limiting his movements. Still not seeing his youngest his anxiety rose. "Sam? Sammy? Damn it son, answer me!" He looked quickly at Dean. "Dean, I'm stuck, can you get out and check your brother?"

Dean though was way ahead of his Dad and had started to work at his seat belt as soon as had hadn't heard a response from his younger sibling, his natural instinct to look after Sam had kicked in full time. With a final vicious pull on the belt he managed to release it and he was free. After seeing the back seat completely empty, he hurdled it in his haste to get to his brother, in his haste to make sure he was okay. The sight that greeted him almost made him gag. Sam was lying on his left side in the back foot well, his face wedged up against one of the metal legs of the bench. His left leg angled awkwardly upwards, his eyes closed almost as if sleeping. That wasn't what was making Dean sick to the stomach though. No, that was the pool of blood that was gathering and slowly getting larger, that Dean could see on the floor of the car.

"Dean? Dean? How's your brother? How's Sammy?" John asked, still working fervently to try and release his own belt. "Dean, don't fall apart now, answer me son?"

"Da. . . . Dad! It. . . . It doesn't look good. Sam wasn't belted in. . . ."

Dean couldn't get anymore words out, as John chose that moment to let lose with a tirade. "Sam, what the hell! Why wasn't he belted in?" John shouted his anguish and guilt overwhelming him.

"You told him to go to sleep! You told him to lie down! You were the one who wouldn't listen, who wouldn't stop! Don't you dare blame this on Sam!" Dean angrily shouted back, his need to defend his brother over riding his usual agreement of his father's words.

John sighed deeply, he hadn't meant what he had said, worry for his son making his words come out wrong. "Dean, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking straight. Please tell me what's wrong with your brother."

"It looks like he bounced around a bit. His left leg looks broken, badly. There's also blood pooling around his head, but I can't tell where it's coming from and I don't want to risk moving him. He's breathing though; I think he's just knocked out."

"Feel his neck son, check to see if you feel any breaks."

Dean moved his fingers and gracefully felt up and down his brother's neck. "I can't feel anything Dad, but that doesn't mean it's not broken or damaged."

"No, it doesn't. But it's less likely to be. See if you can find where the blood is coming from."

Dean's hands moved to Sam's head and carefully he reached around to the side closest to the floor, fingers gently groping, searching for the source of his brother's blood loss. The soft moan of pain when he finally found the cause came as both a blessing and a concern. A blessing that Sam was starting to come to, a concern that once he did so the pain would register and Dean would have to deal with a hurt Sam, something he found very difficult to deal well with.

"Sam? Sammy? Sammy, open your eyes for me, but don't try and move okay?" Gently tapping Sam's cheek resulted in a small smile forming on Dean's face as Sam finally cracked open his eyes and turned a pain filled, slightly glazed eye his way.

"D. . . Dee. . . . Dean?"

"Ssshh, little brother, try not to talk too much okay. We had a bit of an accident. . . . ." Dean could have cursed his choice of words as Sam started to panic. He could have hit himself as he watched Sam struggle to move, grimace as he jostled his broken leg and the pain hit, before falling back to the carpeted floor his eyes rolling back in to his head as unconsciousness beckoned. John had managed to finally break free of his busted seat belt, turning just in time to see his baby boy pass out once more. His youngest son's head turning slightly as it landed, the bounce knocking his too long bangs away from his forehead allowing the two older hunters to see Sam's head wound for the first time. A vicious, deep, ugly looking gash ran just under his hairline from the centre to just short of the temple.

"Shit, Dean that looks bad!" Quickly stripping off his jacket and over shirt, John tore off his t-shirt and passed it to Dean. "Use this to staunch the flow, I'll go and get the kit out of the boot."

John had to force the door of the Impala open, the smash into the tree having buckled the old car's frame work. Stepping out into the snow that reached his knees, he slowly made his way towards the back of the car, shivering as the bitter cold wind made itself known and the thick, heavy snowflakes quickly began to drench his clothes. Reaching the trunk, he was distraught to find that the power of the smash had twisted the metal so badly that getting inside would be impossible. He slammed his fist down onto the cold metal, letting out a string of expletives, as his frustrations took over. Their only way of helping Sam was in the trunk, and there was no way to get to it. Looking back the way they had crashed, John could see that the weather was beginning to cover any signs that there had even been an accident. Knowing that Sam was severely injured John knew that he had no other choice; he knew that he would have to go and get help on foot. His mind made up he made his way back to his son's.

Dean had been keeping the pressure up on Sam's profusely bleeding head wound, pleased when he found after a while that the flow was beginning to lessen. He kept trying to wake Sam up, knowing that with a head wound this bad it wasn't a good idea to let the injured party sleep, he kept talking softly to him encouraging him whilst gently tapping his face. It was John's fist thudding on the trunk that finally did the trick though, startling Sam abruptly awake.

"Dean?" Sam eventually whispered out. "What happened? Why am I on the floor?"

"Hey Sammy, we're okay. We just had a little bit of a spill, but Dad will have out of here in no time. How are you feeling?" Dean asked not knowing if he really wanted to know the answer.

"My head hurts and my leg and I'm cold."

Dean cursed under his breath, this was bad. Sam might complain and whine about a lot of things, hunting, constantly moving, having no friends, always having to rush his school work, but being hurt, that was something that Sam would never admit to being. Dean could hear his Dad returning, after seeing the look on the older man's face as he entered the car; Dean knew things had suddenly gotten much worse. He turned quickly back towards Sam. "Sam, I'm just going to talk to Dad for a second okay? Try and stay awake."

"Mmm. . . . 'kay Dee." Sam mumbled.

"Sam you have to stay awake! That's an order! Do. You. Hear. Me?" Dean felt guilty as soon as Sam's pain filled eyes locked onto his face once more, but he knew that feeling a bit of guilt would be a hell of a lot better than Sam falling asleep once more.

"Okay, Dean." Sam forced out, sounding a little more like himself.

After a quick squeeze of Sam's shoulder, Dean leaned forward over the bench seat to talk to their father. "Dad, what's wrong? Where's the first aid kit?"

"The trunks jammed, I can't get into it. How's Sam?"

"Not good. He's complaining that he's hurt and you know how hurt he must be to do that, he never does that. The bleeding has almost stopped, but I'm worried that he might have a concussion. I don't even want to look at his leg. . . . ."

"Dean, I need you to look after Sammy. I'm going to have to go and get help." John could see questions forming in Dean's eyes, deciding to save time he answered them before his son could pluck up the courage to ask. "The snow's too deep for us all to go, and do you really want to risk moving Sam? As the snow keeps falling we're quickly being hidden from the road, so even if anybody else would be stupid enough to be out in this weather and drove past, they wouldn't see us. I think that we're about a mile away from the next town; I'm going to head there. Try and keep Sam awake, if you can't and he falls asleep wake him every ten minutes. I'll be as quick as I can." At seeing the worried look in Dean's eyes, he gently cupped his oldest son's face. "We're all going to be fine Dean, I promise. I'll be back soon, with help."

That one touch from his Dad convincing Dean that everything would be okay, he quickly turned back to Sam pleased to see that although he was struggling to do so, he had managed to stay awake. "Hey Sammy, Dad's going to get some help."

"Yyyou ssshould go to Ddean. Ddon't want you gggetting cccold." Sam whispered out, small chills wracking his body making his words come out all stuttered.

Tears sprang to Dean's eyes as he struggled to take in Sam's words. "You have the biggest heart, Sam." He whispered to himself before saying out loud to Sam. "You know me Sam, I'm a hot bloody male, and I'm never cold."

Sam chuckled slightly, but the movement caused his head to throb all the more. "Dddean, cccould I have a Tttylenol?"

Dean looked at their Dad, who was just about to leave, receiving a shake of the head. Turning back to Sam as their Dad climbed out of the car once more, Dean passed on the good news. "Sam, I'm sorry. You're just gonna have to suck it up for a bit longer. The kits in the boot and we can't get to it."

Although pain and anguish was registering all over Sam's face, he quickly nodded his head telling Dean that he understood. His eyes though started losing their battle to stay open, Dean noticing this was quick to react. "Sammy? Hey Sam, do you remember that Christmas in Ohio?" At seeing Sam's puzzlement, Dean added. "You know, that ratty motel in the middle of nowhere with mirrors stuck in unusual places. The one time that Dad actually got us a tree, because we were going to be there that long, he thought it might cheer us up. Then we found those decorations in the dumpster behind the town's only restaurant."

"Yyeah, I remember ggetting ccovered in bacon gggrease and sssmelling for a week afterwards, bbbecause you made me ccclimb in and ggget them. You said you wwere older and that mmmeant you ssshould be the one to kkkeep wwatch." Sam ground out around the pain, some words taking a while to get out as the chill worked its way deeper into his body.

"That was a good Christmas."

"Dddean?"

"Yeah Sam, are you okay?"

Sam nodded; seemingly reluctant to ask the question he wanted to, after a few minutes though he spoke up. "Wwhat wwere Christmases like with Mmmom?" The words barely audible.

Dean fought down the blockage that suddenly appeared in his throat, his tears threatening to fall once more. "Sammy?" He quietly breathed out, trying not to look directly at his younger brother, knowing that the minute he did so those eyes that grandmothers the country over went gaga for would also work on him and he would be unable to deny Sam anything. He couldn't keep his eyes averted though and he glanced back Sam's way. That glance being all it took for the memories to start coming back.

"Mom loved Christmas, she always went overboard on it, or so Dad would say. I can only really remember the last one. I remember shopping for a tree, it took us all day. Mom wanted the perfect one. Everything about it had to be just right, the right shape, the right size, hell even the right color. Mom and Dad had told me that morning about you, Mom was so happy that day she positively shone. She was so careful though, making sure she stopped regularly, making sure she didn't overdo things, she was like that throughout the pregnancy. Dad was even worse, not letting Mom lift anything more heavier than a loaf of bread. She bought a present for you that year you know?" Dean risked a quick look out of the window before looking down at Sam once more, Sam who had once again passed out.

Dean ran his hand over his face, for the first time in a long while he doubted his ability to look after Sam and wished fervently that his father had let him go for help instead. His tears fell unrelentingly from his eyes, his own tiredness threatening to take him under. He shook his head violently, No he wouldn't fail Sam, he couldn't fail Sam. Looking back at his brother, Dean started once more to try and wake him up. "Sammy, c'mon little brother, nap times over, it's time to wake up again." He tapped gently on his brother's cheek, pleased this time that it didn't take Sam as long to wake up. Not liking though Sam's reaction when he did so.

"Dddeee?" Sam stuttered out, his body shaking uncontrollably now, from both shock and cold. "Ssso, sssoooo cold, Ddee."

"I know Sam, but I don't have anything else to cover you with. Are you thirsty?"

Sam tried to answer but the shakes had made it almost impossible for him to talk coherently. Instead he just nodded his head. Dean climbed back over the front seat, retrieving the half empty bottle of water from the foot well. Returning back to his brother's side he wondered to him self how he was going to do this small task. He couldn't risk moving Sam, but he couldn't let him drink from the bottle either, he would probably choke. His relief was evident as he caught sight of an abandoned straw under the seat; reaching for it he placed it in the bottle and allowed Sam to take a few sips.

Wwwwhat dddid mmmom bbbuy mme?"

"What?" Dean gave Sam a puzzled look before realizing what Sam meant. "It was actually quite funny, when I think back about it now. She bought you this wicked awesome clown mobile, but every time you were placed under it you would cry. She had to replace it with this baseball one she found."

"Mmmmust hhave aaalways hhhated ccccclowns ttthen eeh?"

Dean found himself thinking back to how much their mom had loved that mobile and how upset she was that it didn't go down so well with her youngest son. Old before his time Dean had insisted that it be placed above his bed, anything to get the beautiful smile back on to their mom's face, a smile lighting up his own face as he thought about it.

"Yyyou ttthinking of mmmom?"

"Yeah."

"Ssssorry."

"Hey don't be, little brother." Wanting to change the subject, Dean tried to assess Sam's injuries once more. "How's the head?"

"Hhhhurts! Sssso tttired."

"I know Sammy, rest your eyes for a bit, okay. I'll wake you in a little while."

Sam's heavy eyes immediately fell closed, signifying to Dean just how much effort Sam was putting into actually staying awake. At times he found himself in awe of the strength his brother possessed, a strength that Dean wished their Dad would at times see. He sighed heavily, in his mind's eye he could already foresee the battles ahead between those two and he found himself wishing that Sam would stay at the age he was so that they could be avoided. He looked at his watch relieved to find that their Dad had been gone forty minutes or so, he hoped that meant that help would soon be here, even he was now feeling the chill creep into his bones. He rubbed at his chest, hoping to break the hold it had on him with a little bit of friction. He found himself desperate for a drink, but not knowing how long rescue would be, he was reluctant to take what little they had. That was for Sam.

Unconsciously he started to hum metallica, something he found he only did when he was scared, stopping himself after a few songs had passed when he realized what he was doing. He couldn't let Sam know how scared he was, he had to stay strong. Looking at his watch again Dean found that Sam's ten minutes were up and reached down to try and wake him, panicking when he found that he couldn't. "Sam? Sammy? Don't you do this to me?" He checked Sam for a pulse, finding one easily enough didn't lessen his anxiety though; he needed to see Sam's eyes for that to happen. "Sammy, c'mon please, open your eyes for me." Still getting no response, Dean's panic escalated. He rubbed along Sam's ribcage, knowing just how ticklish he was there but still received no reaction. This couldn't be happening, this couldn't be happening on his watch. He started crying in earnest now, big fat tears streaming down both cheeks. He was so engrossed in trying to wake Sam, Dean hadn't heard the cries coming from outside, hadn't seen the flashing lights through the gaps in the snow covered windows. The first he knew of their rescue was when the car door finally opened and their Dad's worried face popped in.

"Dean, are you okay? How's Sammy doing?"

"I'm. . . . . I'm fine, Dad. I'm sorry."

"Sorry? What are you sorry for? Sam? What's the matter Dean?"

"He fell asleep and I can't wake him Dad."

John quickly checked over the back seat, relieved when he looked closer to find that Sam was indeed fast asleep. Little puffs of air noticeable in the cold with every breath he took. "Dean? Dean look at me son." Too old eyes looked his way. "He's just asleep Dean, he's just exhausted. You did well son. Now what do you say we get out of the way so that the paramedics can look after your brother and get him out of there?"

Dean nodded and went to climb over the seat once more; changing his mind at the last minute he reached down once more and stroked his brother cheek. "I'll just be outside Sam; you call for me if you need me." He looked up to make sure that their Dad had left before adding. "You better wake up soon, Sam; otherwise I'll have to help myself to the present you bought me. I love you, little brother, Merry Christmas."

**A.N. . . . . Wow, that's the longest chapter or one shot I've every written. A big thanks once again to sammygirl1963 for the plot bunnie, I hope that I did it proud?**

**Catch you all soon, Peanut x**


	2. Chapter 2

**A Not So Very Merry Christmas**

**Summary. . . . . John's insistence that they carry on driving, late one Christmas Eve, results in an unfortunate accident. Sam's 10, Dean's 14. Written for sammygirl1963 who asked for a Christmas Wee-Chester, with a crashed Impala and hurt Sam.**

**Disclaimer. . . . All I want for Christmas is a Sam and Dean. A Jared and Jensen will do!**

**A.N. . . . . Well quite a few of you asked for a bit more to be added and you know I never aim to displease, so here you go. I hope that you enjoy, Peanut x**

Dean might have agreed to leave Sam's side, but there was absolutely no way in hell he was going any further than the back window of the Impala. No amount of persuading by either John, or the paramedics, would get him to move from there, yellow eyes himself could show up for all he cared but he would still not be moved any further away from Sam. So there he had stood for the last half an hour, shivering in just his shirt, whilst they had worked to ready Sam to be moved, every now and then shouting out encouraging words to his brother, unsure if Sam could even hear them. He was so engrossed in his worry for Sam that he didn't feel his Dad come up behind him, didn't feel the blanket the older man placed onto his shoulders, didn't hear him trying yet again to get Dean to wait in the ambulance. All Dean could feel was how cold Sam had felt, all Dean could hear was his brother's pain filled, stuttering voice.

Dean could feel his anger beginning to boil once more, at the amount of time it was taking them to get Sam free. His hands rose ready to move the snow that had once again accumulated and covered the window, blocking his view of Sam, his hand stopping in mid air as his brother's anguished cry suddenly rang out. Dean tensed. Roaring out his brother's name, he bolted forward aiming to get back to his brother's side. John's arms flung around his eldest son's body trying to stop him from getting in the way, unfortunately Dean didn't see it that way, in his mind someone was preventing him from reaching his goal. He started fighting against the restraint, his desperation to help his brother blocking out his father's words from entering his mind.

"Dean! Dean! Stop fighting me, Sam's okay. They're just trying to get him out. Let them do their job. Move back so, please."

Dean just kept on struggling all the harder. Falling to his knees as his feet slipped in the snow didn't even slow him down; he just kept on clawing desperately ahead. Using every bit of strength he had, John managed to turn Dean around. With a bit of effort he managed to get him to look him in the eye and finally hear his words.

"Dean, let them do their job. Let them work. Let them get Sam out of there quickly."

"Why? Do you have someplace you're in a rush to be?" Dean spat out, his emotions and anger at himself for not protecting Sam causing him to lash out. "Do you need Sam to be free so that you can get to your precious hunt? You can't leave him stuck in a car, but you can leave him at the hospital?"

"Dean. . . . . "

"Don't Dad, if you need to go then go." Sam's cry of pain had shot Dean's anger up, his Dad being the unfortunate victim in the firing line. "This never would have happened if you had, just for once, put us first. We asked you to stop Dad! This is your entire fault! Sammy's hurt because of you!" Shrugging off his fathers embrace Dean rushed back to the snow covered window once again, needing to have his younger brother in his sights once more.

John just stood the stock still. Dumbstruck, he just couldn't seem to move. Dean's words had been stinging and hurtful, but most of all John knew that they were true. More and more often he would put the hunt first, more and more often he would leave them alone with the bare minimum amount of money to survive on, but somehow they would survive, Dean could always seem to make it last. As he dropped and sat in the snow, ignoring the cold and wetness as it seeped into his clothing, he wondered when it had all gone so wrong, so off track for him, when it was he had resorted to putting his children last.

Dean had watched from the corner of his eye as his Dad had dropped to the floor after receiving some home truths from him, a small amount of concern and regret filling his head. He didn't regret his words, if things didn't change one of these days someone would eventually get killed he felt, he just regretted his timing, his ferocity. He should be focusing on Sammy not fighting with their Dad. After brushing the snow away once more, Dean could see that they had Sam prepped and were just about ready to remove him from the car. The bent framework meaning he would have to be lifted over the bench seat and brought out of the front. Dean focused once more on Sam's face, anxious to see if he was still in pain, ready to demand relief if he was, relieved when he saw his relaxed pain free features. Sam was unconscious once more.

Dean had sent a grateful prayer of thanks to who ever was listening as Sam stayed that way as he was moved from the Impala, he sent another one as his brother remained unconscious for the journey to the hospital, missing the uncomfortable silence that fell in the ambulance between the two older Winchesters. A silence that continued between them as they waited in the small waiting room after Sam was whisked away, John sitting stoic faced, his head in his hands, on one side of the room, Dean pacing back and forth, biting his nails, on the other side.

"Dean, sit down please. Wearing a hole in the floor won't make them come out any faster with news."

Dean glared at his Dad, but slumped into one of the hard plastic chairs. "When will they let me see Sam? When will they give us some news?" He asked out loud.

"Dean, it's only been 15 minutes. As soon as they know something they'll let us know."

Not ready to start talking with his father just yet, Dean rose once more and resumed his pacing. John sighed deeply, he wished that he could make things right with his sons, but he wasn't sure how. He wished that he could turn back time, if only he had stopped, if only he had put Sam and Dean first. As he sat there patiently awaiting news on Sam, watching Dean pacing, a thought entered his head on how he might be able to at least put a smile on his sons faces, make up for past mistakes.

"I'm going to get some coffee son, do you want anything?" Dean just shook his head and carried on pacing. As soon as he was out of sight of his eldest son, John headed for the bank of phones he had seen earlier and dialed a familiar number.

"Joshua, hey it's John. Listen I need your help! . . . . . . . We had a bit of an accident. . . . . . Sammy got hurt; he should be okay though. . . . . . I need your help, I need you to get here and bring me some things. . . . . . "John ended the call soon after and after getting two coffees', if Dean didn't drink it he would, he headed back to wait.

The coffees' had long since been finished when footsteps could be heard echoing down the hallway towards them, two weary heads rose in expectation of at last receiving some news. At seeing a doctor approaching the two eldest Winchesters shot to their feet.

"Family of Samuel Wilson?"

"John, John Wilson and this is my other son Dean. How's Sam?"

"He's a very lucky young man from what I've heard of the crash. As you probably guessed his left leg is broken, but the break was a clean one. We re-set the bones and cast his leg, when we took the x-rays of Sam's leg we noticed a previous break so I'm assuming that you know how to help him during the coming weeks?" At getting a nod from both men the doctor continued. "Sam's on pain meds for the break and for the severe concussion he sustained. Head injuries like the one he received tend to bleed a lot, but again after x-raying the area we believe there to be no permanent damage. We've ran some scans just to make sure though. We stitched up the wound and dressed it; Sam's sleeping of the anesthetic in the ER at the moment but should be moved to his own room soon. As soon as that happens, I'll have a nurse come and get you. I'd like to keep him here for the rest of the night, but I can't see why he shouldn't be released later today, or tomorrow. Do you have any questions?" After getting nods from both men the doctor excused himself leaving to suddenly tired Winchester's to start healing their own wounds.

Half an hour later saw both older Winchester's being escorted to Sam's room, the kind matronly nurse explaining along the way that Sam would still be out for the count for a few more hours. The silence that had fallen after Dean's outburst fell once again over the small family once the nurse had left, only the soft gently snoring of the youngest member permeating the air. Taking up positions on either side of Sam's bed, they waited for him to wake, both men having different reasons to want to see those brown eyes. John looked discreetly over at Dean, noticing for the first time just how tired his eldest child looked.

"Dean, why don't you get some sleep? It'll be a while yet before Sam awakes." Getting no response only yet another cold stare, John tried again. "Dean, you know you can always tell when your brother isn't sleeping well, your Sammy radar will kick in the minute he stirs. If for some reason it doesn't I'll wake you."

Dean wanted desperately to rebel against his fathers wishes, but the events of the night and his own aches and pains were beginning to let them selves be known. Resting his head on Sam's arm he closed his eyes and mentally telling him self he was just going to have a nap, promptly fell into a deep sleep.

Sunlight was streaming through the window when Dean finally felt Sam begin to stir beneath his head, his eyes instantly shooting open, and his mind alert. The rapid movement beneath his brother's lids indicating that he was trying to awaken. Looking around the room he noticed the absence of their Dad, his annoyance beginning to grow at the older man once more. As the door to Sam's room opened and the object of his anger walked through carrying two more cups of coffee, all that anger and blame disappeared. The oldest Winchester looked terrible. Heavy, tired, red rimmed eyes stood out on an all too pale face, a face that was peppered with stubble. He really couldn't blame his father for the accident, many times before they had driven on in stead of stopping, many times before they had arrived safely at their destination. Bad luck it seems had finally caught up with them.

"Hey son." John spoke as he finally noticed Dean awake. "I'm sorry if I worried you, not being here when you woke. I was going to wake you in a bit and I thought that you might like a coffee now."

Dean took the beverage offered; taking a sip of the scalding liquid before plucking up the courage to say the words he needed to say. "I'm sorry too, Dad. I'm sorry that I blamed you. I'm sorry for the words that I said. It was just that Sam was hurting and I needed to lash out, to blame someone, because I couldn't lash out at myself, because I couldn't blame myself. . . . . ."

"Dean, why would you blame yourself? It wasn't your fault."

"Cause Sammy got hurt! All his life I've watched out for him, made sure that he was safe. I should have done that last night. . . . . "

A raspy, weak, pained voice shocked both men as it spoke softly from the bed. "Not your fault. I should have buckled myself back in."

Both John and Dean objected to Sam's words, both men reassuring the younger boy that he wasn't to blame.

"Sam, son it wasn't your fault. I should have stopped."

"Sammy, I should have made sure that you belted back in."

Both men glanced at each other and smiled briefly before their attention was went back to Sam. Who was to blame forgotten. "I'll go and get the doctor Sam, let him know that you're awake.

Both sons' watched their father leave. As the door closed behind him, Dean's protective, fussy nature took over. "Sam, are you okay? Do you need some water? Are you comfortable?"

Sam smiled, at times he hated the over protectiveness that his sibling surrounded and smothered him in, today though things were different and he found himself enjoying it. His head still throbbed, his leg ached and the rolling that had started in his stomach the minute he had opened his eyes had begun to get worse. "Headache." He eventually whispered out. "Feel sick, but don't think that I will be."

"We'll see if the doc will give you something for the pain when he comes in."

"Dean, how bad is it?"

"You have a concussion and a broken leg, kiddo. All things considered you were lucky."

"Don't feel so lucky. Feel stupid. You and Dad are fighting because of me, I should have been more careful."

"Hey, hey Sammy, we're not fighting. We were just concerned about you and some silly things were said, but we're okay now."

"When can I get out of here?"

The door opened as Sam asked that question, John leading the doctor back into the room. "I think that I can answer that question for you." The medical man responded. "Your scans came back clear young man and your father here tells me that you're not a lover of hospitals, so I've agreed to release you later on this afternoon. You're to stay in town for a few days just to make sure we haven't missed anything, you're Dad has booked into a motel close by. Sam if you feel any pain, blurriness, nausea or dizziness I want you to tell your father or brother straight away, okay?"

"Yes Sir."

"Okay then, I'll go and get your papers in order. I'm going to send a nurse in with something for your pain; I'm guessing that you're a bit sore right about now. I'm also going to get here to bring you in something to eat, I know that you probably don't feel like anything but I must insist that you at least try before I release you." Sam nodded his agreement, anything to get out of here. "Okay then, I'll see you before you leave."

The nurse had come in not long after with some toast and meds; after he had eaten half of the toast Sam had fell back asleep allowing Dean to finally question their Dad. "When did you book into a motel? Did you lie to the doctor, just to get Sam released quicker? Just so you could get back to the hunt?"

"Dean, please."

"Did you Dad?"

"No! I made the arrangements while you were sleeping. We'll be staying near the hospital until the doctor says Sam's well enough to travel."

Dean was dumb struck. "But what about the hunt? What about Mom's killer?"

"You and Sam are more important, Dean. It just took this to make me realize that. I imagine your Mom will be cussing me right about now for putting anything before you two. Caleb is going to look into the lead for me. I know this doesn't change what I did. . . . "

"Dad, I was lashing out. I told you that. I never meant it, I'm sorry. . . . . "

"Dean, we can keep doing this, keep going around in circles or we can agree to move on and concentrate on getting your brother healed. What do you say?"

"Okay." Silence descended again between the two men as they waited once again for Sam to awake, this time though a happy silence.

Five o'clock Christmas day saw Sam securely loaded into the back of a cab, Dean beside him, John up front, headed for the motel John had booked them into. The eldest Winchester breathed a sigh of relief when they arrived that the place was pretty decent looking, a vast improvement on their usual hangouts. He paid the driver before helping Dean ease Sam from the back, his youngest son's eyes struggling to stay open yet again.

"Dean, I'll carry your brother, you grab his crutches."

The small family made its way through the snow to the room John knew was theirs, a question forming in Dean's mind as they did so. "Dad, do you want me to go and get the key?"

"No son, the door will be open." John couldn't help the smile that graced his face at the look that crossed Dean's as his words registered. Leaning his head closer to Sam's ear he whispered. "Sammy, I need you to try and stay awake just a little bit longer, son." Sam mumbled something in return, his eyes heavy but still open. "Dean, could you get the door?"

As the door to the room opened, Dean's body refused to go any further. Behind him he heard Sam's gasp of surprise. The room was brightly decorated, Christmas lights blazing from a real tree, presents littered underneath it, Joshua standing grinning stupidly beside it. "I know that it's not much, but I wanted you to have at least one decent holiday memory. I love you boys, Merry Christmas."

**A.N. . . . . Sorry if there are any mistakes, I'm one very tired Peanut today. Hope that you enjoyed the read, Happy Holidays, catch you all soon,Peanut x**


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